Profess Your Love unto Me
by NevWriting
Summary: *SPOILERS Up to 6.22* Castiel has gone dark side and it seems nothing is left to stop him. Three hunters find themselves caught between trying to save Cas and killing a power-hungry God. Rated for eventual sexual scenes -slash-, violence, and language.
1. Chapter 1

_Foreword: This popped into my head a few days ago and I decided to roll with it. Set after Season 6 finale so **spoilers for the whole show**._

_This story will contain lots of angst, Sam/Gabriel love, Dean being his mopey self, and God!Castiel. If everything goes well, there may even be Dean/Castiel. And a few more surprises. Will be primarily a slash fic, but since Dean is, well **Dean** there will be brief straight parts. Don't worry, I won't bother you too much with that. It's just part of the story before we get to the fun bits._

_Chapter 1_

Fuck. Fuck fuck _**fuck.**_

Dean literally couldn't think with how hard his heart was pounding in his ears and throat. All he could taste was the rapid pulse and could only hear the blood roaring through his ears. He finally had a moment to comprehend and it took everything in him just to _breathe._

After Castiel had made that horrific ultimatum, something -fucking _something-_ had zapped the three of them out of there. Dean felt the same upward, sick pull from when he and Sam had been rescued from Lucifer breaking out of his cage. And now it had happened again, and they were safe. At least, he really fucking hoped it had taken all three of them to safety; he hadn't seen Bobby or Sam but it was way-too-fucking-much-at-once and he needed to focus on getting himself calmed down to _think_. The last thing he needed was more survivors' guilt piled on when he should be focusing on making sure Castiel didn't find them. What the _hell_ kept deciding he needed to be pulled out of life threatening situations?

Dean grimaced, realizing that being alone in a room with Cas was now a life threatening situation. Fuck, Cas was dark side now. He had opened Purgatory and _ate those souls_. And that cold, heartless look Cas had given him…

Dean considered himself pretty strong. He could handle blood in his face and seeing guts, hell he could handle watching his friends die with at least a sense of dignified remorse. But that _realization_ that Cas had… the eldest Winchester felt his knees give out as he emptied the contents of his stomach onto the pavement below.

He wiped his mouth roughly and rested his head against the brick wall, his breath finally calm enough to process. He looked blearily around, keeping out the thought of Cas for now. It certainly wasn't the town they had been in; it was colder, and drier. He saw a bright neon sign in the distance and squinted to get a look; Salt Lake County Inn. Utah, he was blown to _Utah_. Well at least it was far away.

Dean turned his head to look down the alley he was by. Knowing it was probably stupid he called out for Sam, and then Bobby; his voice was scratchy from the bile but he kept calling. He heard nothing. Dean sighed and fiddled with his phone, calling Sam. He really wasn't surprised it went straight to voicemail but it still made his stomach drop and tighten into a knot. If he lost Sammy because of this Dean didn't know what he would do. Dean dropped his hand for a moment, then worked up the will to call Bobby.

Dean was startled upright when he heard the line pick up and Bobby's familiar voice say, _"Dean?"_

"Oh thank-" Dean started, then ground his palm into his head. Can't really thank _Him_ now, can he?

"Thank goodness you're alright Bobby," Dean tried again breathlessly.

"_You too, boy,"_ Bobby replied softly, _"What the __**hell**__ happened?"_

"I…I haven't a clue," Dean said, "It reminded me of when ol' Luce broke out. Bright lights and then Sam and I were gone. Where are you, Bobby?"

A small, disbelieving sigh crackled through the phone, and Bobby said, _"I'm home, Dean. Planted right in my chair."_

"Holy shit."

"_Why, where are you?"_

"I, uhm. I think I'm near Salt Lake City."

"_**Utah?**_"

"Yeah, and I-. I can't find Sammy, Bobby," Dean said and didn't even try to deny his voice cracked.

"_Well get lookin' boy. I doubt whatever saved us would save __**me **__and not him. Hopefully he's nearby, but apparently this thing's shooting range is out of whack."_

Dean smiled a little, "Okay Bobby. I'll call when I find him."

"_You better," _Bobby said. Dean could tell he wanted to say more, and he knew exactly what about. But the hunter did _not_ want to hear it. There was time for it later. The line went dead on Bobby's end and Dean slid the phone shut. Without to aim or reason Dean walked down the alley and out onto a main street, the town more or less dead with how late it was –Dean figured it was late, but who knew if time had been messed with when they shifted-, so Dean didn't get weird looks from the sparse people as he look down alleys and called for Sam.

Just when he was giving up hope and deciding to shack up in a motel for the night, he heard a low groan from a small pass between two stores. Dean didn't even think it could be anything else than what he hoped and sprinted down the wrecked alley. He saw a collapsed form near the end and immediately recognized the huge body and mop of hair that was Sam Winchester.

"Sammy!" Dean called. He dropped down on his knees and cupped his brother's face, looking for signs of injury and thankfully found none. A strange sense of relief and fear washed over him at once, leaving him dizzy and thick mouthed. Sammy was alive, Sammy was _safe_ but shit- Sammy had all his memories from Hell bombarding him now. It was a miracle he had made it to them in the first place.

"Sam, come on, open your eyes man," Dean whispered, unashamed of his worried and shaky voice. Now was not the time to be fucking macho, even with no external injuries his little brother looked almost dead. His skin and lips were pale and his eyes were dark, and his breathing, although there, was weak and shallow.

Slowly Sam opened his eyes, looking up at Dean first with confusion, and then disbelief.

"Dean?" Sam said, and his voice was so quiet that if he hadn't seen his lips moved we would have thought he imagined it. Dean couldn't help a small grin and tried to pull Sam upright. Suddenly Sam's eyes got wide and he fucking _screamed._

"No! Nonono, please don't do it again! Dean! _Dean!_"

Dean went pale and tried to hold Sam still but he was scratching and pulling at Dean's clothes until it hurt, almost as if trying to keep him away from something that wasn't there.

"Sammy! Come on Sam, I'm here! Calm down!" Dean tried to yell over his voice was Sam was too loud; tears leaked from his eyes and Dean didn't think he could ever wipe the image of pure horror on Sam's face out of his mind. He was still screaming and even in the dead of night someone was going to come looking soon. So Dean did the only thing he could think of.

He punched Sam out cold.

Granted, probably one of the worst things he could have done, but Dean had _no idea_ what to do for someone who was remembering the Pit. Dean still had nightmares of hell. At least now he could transport him. Despite Sam's size Dean was strong, and he managed to balance Sam over his shoulder and in his arms, and carried him out of the alley. Luckily there was a motel close by and he didn't have to walk far.

After making up a story even the sorriest sap could never believe -that Sam had one too many drinks and they needed a room, complete with his voice shaking too much and his eyes betraying probably everything-, the motel clerk reluctantly handed him the key and he got Sam into the room and in bed. Even in sleep Sam looked awful.

As quietly as he could Dean locked himself in the bathroom and stared down a the floor. The tiles were clean but faded, and a large mirror took up the wall that Dean refused to look in. He didn't want to see what his face looked like. Dean dialed Bobby and the he picked up on the first ring.

"_You find him?"_ Bobby asked immediately.

"Yeah Bobby, but uh," Dean swallowed hard and looked up at the ceiling, "He's not good man. He's _wrecked_. I…I don't know what do to."

"_Stay there Dean, I'm on my way. You figure out the town yet?"_

"Yeah. I'm in Murray. I uh," Dean snorted bitterly, "I'm not really sure what you can do. _**I**_ don't know what do. I mean, I was in hell and it was _bad_ but Sam-"

"_Dean,"_ Bobby said curtly, cutting off Dean's small rant.

"Yeah Bobby?"

"_Stop acting like a damn girl, we're going to fix your brother. That kid is tougher than you think."_

Dean smiled a little weakly, and it faded as soon as it came. He spoke the next quietly, not even sure he wanted Bobby to hear him.

"You didn't see his face."

Bobby was quiet for a moment, then repeated,_ "We're gonna fix him Dean. Hang tight, I'll be there as soon as I can."_

"See ya Bobby," Dean muttered softly, clicking the phone shut and sliding it listlessly into his pocket. He waited a few moments before exiting the bathroom, walking over to the empty bed and just sitting on it. Like hell Dean could sleep now. He kept a vigil over Sam while he slept, flinching every time he heard Sam whimper and writhe. Guilt and helplessness clawed open his heart and everything in him wished he could do _something_ to help Sam. But there was nothing he could do. Cas had ripped down the wall. Castiel had done this to Sam. _Castiel._

Dean felt sick to his stomach again and closed his eyes, willing the nausea away. His head was spinning again and he didn't know if he'd ever be ready to deal with everything that had happened that night. He bit into his palm to muffle a sob, because Dean didn't ever fucking _cry_, and just wondered _why._

_A/n: Well, there's chapter one. Tell me that you think! I don't know if I'm happy with this or not, and I would really love feedback on whether or not I should contin__ue this, what I can change if anything, or if I should admit to my failure as a writer and go back to derping around in art. I've never had a Beta and in all honesty, I don't know how it works. So this is just me and my over analytical eye. Sorry if my grammar sucks somewhere._


	2. Chapter 2

_Chapter 2_

Dean didn't realize he had fallen asleep until he was suddenly jolted awake, a cold tremor of dread seeping through his spine. It was completely silent in the room, deathly silent except for Sam's stilted breathing, but something had woken him up. Dean knew better than to chalk it up to paranoia. The word stuck in his throat for a moment, but his instincts told him to say it, _now_.

"Castiel?"

Dean spoke it softly, and was faintly proud his voice didn't shake. The air was still and the silence buzzed in Dean's ears. Just as he was started to think he really _was_ paranoid, there was a faint rustle from the far side of the room and a gravelly voice responded:

"Hello, Dean."

Dean felt his blood run cold. As familiar as the greeting was, it was laced with malice and a hint of sick satisfaction. Castiel was proud he had found them.

"I wonder," Castiel started, his deep timbre sending chills down Dean's spine that were all unpleasant now, "Just how you got away from me. You wouldn't happen to know, would you Dean? These types of escapes seem to gravitate towards you."

"What do you want, Castiel?" Dean hissed quietly, ignoring Castiel's question and wishing he would come into the light.

A faint exhale, and then he heard the subtle scrape of footsteps on carpet. Castiel was slowly illuminated by the blue light of the outside streetlamp, his gaze intent and unwavering on Dean. His head was tilted slightly, reminiscent of the curious curve he had as an angel but now as a God the tilt looked cocky and calculating. Dean braced himself defensively, but didn't move from the bed. He knew Castiel had the upper-hand here, and he didn't want to give the "God" incentive to attack.

"I never received an answer from you, Dean. Perhaps you misunderstood the severity of the situation."

"No, we understood," Dean spat bitterly, "And this is _not_ what you are Cas! How can you expect us to…to…_give in_ to a God that will _kill_ us if we don't?"

"I believe the word I used was love, Dean. It is not a hard concept. At least, not for most people. But you only ever love family, don't you Dean? You can't even love God."

Dean frowned and looked away, "I considered you family once."

Castiel's eyes narrowed and when Dean looked back he almost missed the flash of emotion. Castiel sighed and looked away, then smiled faintly.

"I care not how you felt in the past, Dean. It is a new era, and all of those…frivolous emotions you taught me are behind us. Now what is your answer?"

Dean merely glared. Castiel sighed and Dean could tell it was faked.

"Perhaps a little incentive?" Castiel replied, and walked forward. Dean's heart pounded harder with each step forward and he braced himself to attack, though going against _God_ certainly didn't seem to be in his favor.

Instead of turning to him Castiel faced Sam, reaching a hand out to his agonized face.

"Don't you _dare-!_" Dean snarled, but before he could lunge Castiel raised his other hand and stopped him in his tracks. Dean could only watch helplessly as Castiel stroked his hand over Sam's face and-

-and the agonized expression immediately disappeared. Sam looked…calm.

"What did you _do?_" Dean bit out through gritted teeth, the tension of being forced back making it hard to speak.

"I took away his memories of hell, Dean. I did not lie when I said I would raise the wall for him again."

"Then…is he-?"

Castiel smirked and it was cold. Dean felt the dread hit him again.

"No, he is not fixed. The memories will only elude him while he sleeps, forever in a perfect dream. But only while he sleeps. If he wakes, he will remember."

Castiel turned to face Dean and released his hold on the hunter. Dean collapsed to the floor.

"However," Castiel started softly. He hooked one finger under Dean's chin and forced him up to his knees. Dean glared venom into him but could do little else with the hold of that single finger forcing his jaw shut.

"If you agree to love me, and accept me as your God, then I will remove all memories and all traces of Sam ever being in hell. If you don't…well, you understand by now."

Castiel released him and Dean worked his jaw slightly.

"I will give you five days. That should be sufficient enough time to discuss with Bobby Singer, yes?"

Before Dean could say anything he was jerking awake and looking wildly around the room that just moments ago had been engulfed in darkness. The sun was slanting through the smudged window, casting a dull yellow glow over the room. He looked for any signs that Castiel had been there, but all he found was Sam's gentle, sleeping face.

_A/n: Feedback, again, would be welcome and appreciated._


	3. Chapter 3

_EDIT: Oh boy, I forgot some details, thanks Blissfulnightmare's True Form for pointing out my glaring error. It's better now. Also fixed a few other discrepancies._

_Chapter 3_

"You are joking, right Dean?"

Dean sighed and rubbed his hand over his face exasperatedly. Bobby had gotten there very early the morning following Castiel's visit. Dean had spent the day and night inside, watching Sam for any signs of waking, or signs of remembering. Neither happened. Other than the fact Sam had not woken up in almost 24 hours he looked fine. His stirred sometimes in his dreams, mumbled a little. To anyone else no one would suspect his little brother was pretty much comatose. It was just like before, when Castiel had broken the wall to begin with only now it was certain Sam would remember if he woke up. Dean never thought he would wish that Sam would stay asleep.

"I told you Bobby. He came by and zapped the memories away. Now Sam won't wake up."

"So after our great escape, Cas finds you and instead of smiting he _shoots the breeze_ with you? And then decides to knock Sam down, _again_? What part of this remotely makes sense?"

Dean shifted restlessly, "Sam seems fine, though."

Bobby practically gaped, "Fine? _Fine?_ This is no different than before! Except now Sam is in lala land and we _know_ that if he wakes up he's going to freak on us!"

"For the next four days, at least," Dean muttered, not forgetting Castiel's 'offer', "Then we gotta tell Cas our decision."

"Yeah, I got that. Not much time to decide then, is there?" Bobby rolled his eyes, "Granted, I wasn't expecting another five minutes. Why _did_ Cas give us four days?"

Dean shrugged, "Well we have four days to figure out how to stop Cas."

Bobby snorted, "It took us months to figure out how to kill Eve! Now we have to kill _God?_"

Dean gave him a pointed look, "I said 'stop', Bobby."

"Yeah? Normally we stop these monsters by snuffing them out. You think afternoon tea with biscuits is going to change his mind?"

Dean grimaced, "This is Cas we're talking about Bobby, not just any _monster_. He's our friend."

"Dean, I know you and Cas were pals, but he's not _Cas_ anymore," Bobby said, softly but firmly.

"How do you know that? So he's hopped up on soul juice now, but Cas is in there somewhere! And he did this for us."

_For me,_ a small voice said in the back of his head and Dean quickly shut that thought up.

"He did not do this for us," Bobby snapped sarcastically, "He did it for _his_ world, and now he's going to bring it _down_ on us. Or did you forget that ultimatum?"

Dean was dead silent and Bobby sighed. So many thoughts were whirling in Dean's head. _You didn't see the look in his eyes, Cas is still lost and confused and just wants m- us to accept him, to want him, to understand him. He doesn't want to kill us. He could have done it a thousand times over. He wants, he **needs**, he-_

"Dean?" Bobby tried. He got no response but plowed ahead anyway, "Dean, I get it. I know this is hard but…we have to accept that Cas might not be _there_ anymore."

_He doesn't want to kill us. So lost, so confused, those souls are screwing with him! Look at his eyes, you know he's there fuck **fuck **what had they done to him, what had **he** done to him. They need to save him, need to need to, just like Cas did a thousand times over._

"We gotta _try, _Bobby. We owe him that."

Dean could never forgive himself if he didn't at least _try._

Bobby sighed sharply, "Fine. But humor me for a moment, Dean. Maybe, _maybe_ Cas is in there somewhere but we have to realistic. That Cas is buried deep now and the one we got is a megalomaniac _God._ One step at a time, and that would be _not dying_ before we stop him."

Bobby was careful not to say kill anymore, but he wasn't going to say fix either. He needed Dean with him on this, and the last thing they needed was to fight about Castiel's not-humanity.

Dean nodded once, and that was all he needed.

"We gotta start looking, then," Dean replied. He gave Bobby a cocky half smile and Bobby knew he had already put his shields up. Oh well. If this was what Dean needed to do to get his head in the game, then so be it. He wasn't talking then he wasn't talking. They didn't have the luxury to deal with this the right way.

Bobby jerked his thumb towards the door of the motel room and said, "I brought most of my paper arsenal with me I thought might pertain to any God-making or God-killing lore. There isn't much, and by that I mean ziltch, but we have to start somewhere so I went broad."

Dean nodded again and followed Bobby out to start unloading the materials into the motel room.

"I'll start research here, keep an eye on Sam. Can you go on a food run for us? Don't need you gettin' cabin fever." Bobby tossed his keys to Dean after they finished unloading.

"Yeah sure Bobby," Dean said, his grin perfectly in place as he got in the truck and sped away.

Bobby watched him go with a bit of regret. Even a half hour away from Sam and away from _this _could help clear his head a little. Obviously not a great salve for the wounds, but at least it took some of the salt out. He also knew Dean probably hadn't eaten all day.

Bobby was researching for a little over an hour –not quite long enough to worry about Dean, considering how late they were trying to find food and that he knew Dean was taking the opportunity to be alone- when his phone rang. Why the hell would Dean be _calling_?

Bobby furrowed his brow and said, "Get lost? What is it?"

"Hey Bobby."

"…Yes Dean?" He answered sarcastically, really not in the mood for games now.

"I uhm…I'm outside the motel right now," Dean said sheepishly.

"And why aren't you _in_ the motel?" Bobby asked incredulously.

"I can't find my key. I had it in my wallet and well. Now it's not."

Bobby groaned and walked over to the door, opening it and staring face to face with a nervously grinning Dean. He snapped his phone shut.

"You're lucky they gave you two keys Dean," Bobby snorted. He stepped aside to let him in, rolling his eyes a little while Dean sat down two sandwiches and a case of beer. He had a third sandwich, which Dean put in the small fridge in the corner. Forever the hopeful one.

Hours of research went by in seconds and eons simultaneously. Bobby and Dean got up several times to get coffee, and check on Sam, but otherwise kept their eyes glued to the books. They were interrupted a few times when Sam stirred and they braced himself for his waking. He never did though; the only change was the occasional blissed out smile and both wondered whether they should be relieved or disgusted by what Castiel had done.

The rising sun started to cast a dim blue glow in the room a few hours in, but they kept going. Light streamed full force when Bobby finally tossed his latest book down and concluded he had a great steamy pile of nothing. Well, nothing that seemed that good

"What'cha got, son?" Bobby asked, breaking the long silence.

Dean groaned and rubbed his temples, "Well, other than all books saying Purgatory doesn't exist, and that there aren't many _personal_ accounts of devouring souls, I found a lot of nothing. A bunch of lore on taking out false gods but-"

"Castiel didn't seem to be faking the God act," Bobby finished. He rubbed the bridge of his nose between his forefinger and thumb, eyes tired and a headache forming. "I found a bunch on false gods too. Most of it is people with complexes, and angels or what all sending them to hell."

"Yeah, that's pretty much what I got," Dean sighed.

"There _was_ one thing," Bobby said, turning back to the desk and flipping open one of the books, "It was old text, straight translation from Enochian. Thou who bears false witness to a foul god shall be struck down by God's warriors. And thou seen with their image created in an impure rite will be struck down by the mightiest of God's warriors."

Dean tried to read over his shoulder and groaned, "English, dude."

Bobby shook his head and muttered something about him being an idjit before 'translating' for Dean, "Anyone who worships a false god will be taken out by angels. That last bit to me sounds like the false god –the real deal, powers and everything- will be taken out by the archangels themselves. The first archangels."

"Doesn't that myth usually follow pagan gods?"

"Yeah, but I'm grasping at any straws we find. Besides, why send archangels if anyone can just stake them? Sounds like we have at least _something_ here."

Dean sighed, rubbing his neck, "This may just be me, but didn't we watch Cas blast Raphael into a huge gory mess? How's an archangel going to help us? Are there any archangels even _left?"_

Bobby rolled his eyes at Dean and said, "There were six counted for, but their ranks were all different. According to this, the angel with the highest rank has the power closest to the level of God's. Raphael had the lowest rank of the six. Sure, he could turn us inside out and send us to Mars with half a blink, but he was still the lowest in the hierarchy.

Dean rested his head in his hands and mumbled, "So who _are_ the six?"

"I can't tell who's just got multiple names and who's just a myth. The four highest _we _recognize were Michael, Gabriel, Raphael, and Lucifer."

"Well Michael and Lucifer are out of commission, and Gabriel and Raphael are dead. So does that mean we're screwed?" Dean snorted humorlessly.

Bobby ignored him and continued, "I can make out the sixth name, but there's a Metatron mentioned a couple times in the hierarchy. It's all fuzzy."

"Well who is he? We gotta try something."

Bobby leafed through the book again and stopped at an image of an angel beckoning to a man with his son, "Metatron here is depicted as the Voice of God. Kind of an angelic loudspeaker. Any loonies that said God talked to him were supposedly talking to Metatron. There's nothing on him after talking to Mary and foretelling the coming of Christ, though. Absolutely nothing. I can't even make heads or tails of whether Metatron is a real angel or not; it keeps calling him The Voice, but nothing else. Metatron doesn't have a rank I can tell, but he sounds higher than even Michael, so it's the best we've got there."

"_Great,_"Dean drawled, rubbing his hands over his face. Dean flipped open one of this books and skimmed it as he talked.

"I didn't get much. The info I found on Purgatory linked back to everything we found out before. The only way to out is to open the gates. It doesn't say anything about something being thrown back in."

"So it looks like they only thing we got is finding Metatron," Bobby mumbled.

"Yeah, if he actually exists," Dean said, then added, "Then we get to see if he's blown to bits, too. We gotta keep looking. This can't be all there is."

Bobby grimaced a little, "We will Dean, but first we _sleep_. Fat lot of good we'll do if we pass out in the middle of working."

"'Kay Bobby," Dean replied easily, though Bobby knew by Dean's tension he was not even close to at ease with this. It went unspoken; there wasn't much they could do if Castiel decided to visit again.

Bobby stood and patted Dean on the shoulder, "Get some rest, son. He don't have reason to bother you."

Dean nodded and smiled fakely at Bobby, "Hope so, man."

With that Bobby went to his own room, leaving Dean alone. The hunter walked over to his bag and pulled out a bottle of Jack he always carried, just in case. It had been awhile since he needed it, but well. It was going to be a long night.


	4. Chapter 4

_Chapter 4_

Early the next morning Bobby met with Dean again, and if Dean had dark circles under his eyes and moved a little slowly, Bobby didn't say. The older hunter hit the library shortly after, because while his own personal collection was vast sometimes it just wasn't enough. Dean watched over Sam while he was out, reading some of the books again to make sure they didn't miss anything. They didn't. Dean studied Sam for a little bit and debated on trying to wake him. After realizing he had no idea what to do after that, other than punching him again which he was sure Sam wouldn't appreciate, he decided he was better off asleep and in bliss. A couple times Dean nodded off, but every time intense blue eyes invaded his vision and he forced himself awake. To stop that he began pacing the room. Dean groaned to himself; Dean Winchester, big bad hunter, was _bored out of his mind_.

After pacing long enough for his legs to become tired, Dean went to the mini fridge and pulled out a beer, and then dropped down on the bed to flip through the television channels. He nursed his beer while he aimlessly flipped, pausing for a moment at _Dr. Sexy MD. _He grinned a bit and let himself get lost in the familiar show. Regardless of Gabriel's traumatization nothing could stop him from watching and liking Dr. Sexy.

At the memory of the Trickster Dean's smile faded a bit. Even after all that shit he pulled, Gabriel had still found the nerve to stand up to his brother, and it had gotten him killed. Another person to check on the list of people who died for them.

Dean grimaced and tried to get back to the show, lifting his hand to take a swig of his beer again. When he came up with air Dean looked down stupidly at his empty palm, wondering why the beer was not in his hand. Did he finish it off? He turned to see that the bottle was on the night stand, empty. Funny, he didn't even remember putting it down. Dean shook his head a little to clear it; he was more tired than he thought. Hopefully Bobby would be back soon, and with food.

As if on cue he heard the door rattle, but it didn't open. He heard Bobby's muffled curse and Dean crossed the room to open the door. He couldn't help the grin on his face when he said, "Having key trouble, Bobby?"

Bobby rolled his eyes at him, "I can't find _mine_ now. What, is this place cursed or something?"

Dean shrugged and stuffed his hands in his pockets.

"I hope not, we're on a tight schedule," Dean attempted to kid, but it rang too true in his ears. It would have been a joke to just about anyone other than them.

Dean felt something poke at his fingers and he groped for it, pulling the small object out of his pocket. It was the key card. What the hell?

Bobby glared at him, "Oh, I didn't lose mine, ya took it and decided not to tell me."

"Hey, this is mine! I must have missed it."

"You lost yours, ya idjit."

Dean groaned, "Can we not argue about a _key_? I'm starving, what did you bring?"

Bobby held up the bag of take-out diner food and Dean smiled. Anything would taste good now.

"Oh, and I got this too," Bobby stated, tossing a black case onto the bed, "Figured a laptop would be better than taking a couple trips to the library again."

"Where did you get a laptop?" Dean asked, and Bobby arched his eyebrow at him. Right, con artist. Their second profession. Dean kinda wished they had Sam's laptop, but that was halfway across the states in his Impala. Dean wished he had his Impala.

"Stupid question," Dean answered himself, "So what did you find?"

Over their heart-attack inducing dinner, Bobby discussed and showed Dean some of the information he found from the library.

"I tried looking up more on Metatron, but the info online was even more confusing than my books. Some don't even know if he's an angel."

"Well else could he be?" Dean asked between bites.

"Like I said before, some think he's just an idea, like a guardian angel watching over you. Just a story people tell, " Bobby explained with a shrug.

Dean grimaced a little at the term. _I will always be your guardian Dean, if only you ask_.

Dean's mind decided this was a good time to supply the familiar memory and he immediately thought bitterly, _yeah no, stop it Winchester you got slapped with reality enough already._

"So, you got nothin'?" Dean asked.

Bobby sighed and leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms. "Nothing new for Metatron. I found that sixth's angels name, though. It's not actually a sixth archangel, but another group entirely. Called the Seraph, but other than that I have nothing. No one sees them, no one hears them, and no one knows anything about them."

Dean arched his eyebrows a little, "So there are even more creepy dicks up there?"

Bobby grunted noncommittally, "The info was sparse. They seem even less real than the normal angels did. I think it's just a bunch of loonies adding their own little passages to the truth."

Dean sighed, "Well that's a bust. Anything else then?"

"I did find out some things about soul-sucking. Mainly it's all speculation, nothing concrete."

Dean looked a little hopeful and replied, "Well let's hear it."

Bobby rubbed his sore neck as he talked, "Souls are pure energy; spiritual nuclear reactors. We knew that. Get a lot, and you could be powerful enough to take down anything. A bunch of people like to think that taking souls is _just_ taking energy. Even Cas made it out to sound like that. But it's just not the case."

At Dean's confused look Bobby leaned forward and clarified, "Think of it like this; you went to both heaven and hell. All you saw were souls Dean, but they were still very much people. Friends _and_ enemies."

Dean shrugged, "Yeah, so?"

"So," Bobby mimicked, "When you take a soul, you ain't just taking energy. You're taking that personality too. If that soul is stronger than yours, that personality may leak through."

"So if you get enough angry souls, you got a major personality take over on your hands," Dean said with a hint of hopefulness, "So that proves it isn't Cas talking!"

"Now hold your horses there, Dean, it never says that a personality of a soul can take over, just that it _could_ change you. _That_ is entering possession, and we don't have that case here."

"How do you know? What if Cas took more than he could handle?"

Bobby scoffed, "This is an _angel_, Dean. Tell me how many times you've come across a possessed angel?"

"Who says it's impossible?" Dean snapped back.

"I'm not saying it's impossible! Hell, it's made me hopeful for Cas again. But what _good_ is it to us if we don't know how to get the souls out? Or what to _do_ with them afterwards?"

Dean frowned a little, not answering Bobby. The older man sighed agitatedly. Sometimes dealing with these boys made Bobby think they grew up too fast; other times it made him think they didn't grow up at all.

Just as Bobby was about to get annoyed and snap at Dean, the elder Winchester rocked back on his chair, and the thing _broke_ out from under him.

"Dean!" Bobby exclaimed, watching Dean flail for purchase before falling flat on his ass. Dean let out an indignant yelp when he hit the floor hard, somehow managing not to smack his head against the thin carpet.

When Bobby saw he was alright he smirked a little bit, "Graceful as ever, aren't you Dean?"

"Shut _up_ Bobby," Dean growled, rubbing his sore behind as he got up. He picked up a few pieces of the splintered chair and stared at it bewilderedly. The thing looked like _termites_ had been eating it for weeks. Had he really not noticed that?

"I don't think this motel likes us," Dean grumbled. He got up gingerly, masking his wince when pain shot through his tail bone.

Bobby watched him for a moment, a deep frown set on his face. Dean knew he had something to say to him, but Bobby wasn't talking. Dean did his best not to let his agitation show. Bobby would talk if he wanted to.

Finally older hunter said, "Hey Dean, why don't you get some fresh air?"

"Huh?" Dean turned to face Bobby. "Nah, I'm good man. I was going to try and find more info on Purg."

"You sure? Can't be sunshine and rainbows being holed up in here all day," Bobby answered.

"I'm alright Bobby," Dean chuckled, shooting him a cocky grin.

Bobby gave him one of those looks, but still said nothing.

"I'm going to make a few calls," Bobby mumbled, "Someone may know something."

Bobby left Dean alone and Dean picked up the laptop, inconspicuously rubbing at his still smarting tail bone. Dean nearly nodded off a few times, the only thing keeping him from falling asleep pure paranoia of seeing blue eyes. Dean mentally berated himself for acting like a coward, if Cas wanted to fuck with him than so be it. But it was still...aw damn it all he was a coward.

Dean shook his head and switched to his flask, needed something stronger to drown those thoughts out. He relished the burn in his throat before turning back to research, sifting through endless sites on speculation and false stories. Finally, one site caught his eye. After giving it a read through, he gave Bobby a call to come back over.

Bobby came into the room a few minutes later –no trouble with the key this time-, looking decidedly agitated.

"Hey Bobby- whoa what's up with you?"

Bobby's frown deepened and he looked more pissed by the second, "Something's up with my phone. All my contacts were wrong numbers. I kept getting the same hunting lodge, then the park, and then the zoo! I swear the staff were gonna call me on harassment. I had to call 'em each back two or three times before my phone got it right."

"They couldn't _all_ be wrong numbers," Dean chuckled, "Maybe you're losing your eyesight in your old age."

The glare Bobby shot him made Dean shut up.

"Hookay grumpy," Dean breathed, turning away from him.

"I want you to check out this site." Dean grabbed the laptop and turned it to Bobby, "It's amateur, but all the info I've seen has been accurate. Maybe they're right about the rest of it too."

Bobby scanned the site title.

"Dean, this is called Lovecraftian's Corner. I don't have time for this shit."

Dean snorted, "Just read."

Bobby sighed and complied, sitting down and reading through the site. His eyes narrowed, and then widened, his mouth falling open a little.

"Dean."

"Yeah?"

"You can't be serious."

Dean grimaced, "What, nothing is credible then?"

Bobby sat back and shook his head, rubbing his hand over his face, "No, no it's all very plausible. They guys did their research. Don't know why we didn't think of it before. Oh yeah, because it's _insane!_"

Bobby yelled the last part and Dean rolled his eyes.

"Look, Bobby. These guys say that there's another spell to open Purgatory, only this one can throw things back in. It's almost the same as the last spell, and we know how it worked!"

Bobby sighed sharply, "Yes, but this spell isn't a one way ticket like the last one. It opens up both ways. We can't control any of the spirits. If _any_ got out it would be a monster-spirit blood bath!"

Dean grinned a little, "Ah, but Castiel said he took them all in. There's nothing to let out."

"You're going to take Castiel's word for it?" Bobby asked, his tone obviously disbelieving.

Dean shrugged, "Why save for seconds when he could take it all now?"

"For insurance. So people wouldn't _dare_ to open it back up!"

Dean scoffed, "That's your reason? You're afraid Cas might have left a few behind?"

"Dean, I am being _cautious_. Do you want more blood split because of this mess?"

"Of course not, that's _why_ we should do this!"

"You're only focusing on _saving_ Castiel, and you've yet to think _once_ that he's beyond saving!"

"Don't you dare treat Cas like a monster!"

"He is one now Dean, get your head out of your ass and face facts!"

Both Dean and Bobby had stood up and were in each other's faces, their shouting match escalating until they could barely hear themselves over the other.

"We started this when we didn't listen to him, and we're going to set this right!" Dean yelled.

"Set what right? What self-sacrificing bullshit are you going to do for _Cas_ now? You don't have anything left to sell Dean! You can't bring back everyone!"

"I can sure as hell try!"

"You aint trying hard enough, boy! You're falling apart at the seams and you aint putting yourself back together fast enough!"

"Screw you Bobby, I am doing all I can!"

"Then stop pussying around in thinking this will have a happy ending! We don't _get_ happy endings! We are _hunting_ that son of a bitch whether you like it or not!"

Dean almost, _almost_ regretted it as soon as he did it, but before he could stop himself Dean was watching his fist slam into the side of Bobby's face. Bobby reeled back a few steps, looking absolutely shocked, before scowling darkly and throwing an equally hard punch right into Dean's nose. Dean yelled in pain and cradled his nose, probably broken from the force behind it. Blood pooled in his palm and Dean groaned, keeping his nose forward and letting the disgusting mess drip into his hand.

"You can't do it, Dean. It's too much. You _gotta_ know that," Bobby said, his anger gone from his voice. When Dean looked up he saw that Bobby just looked sad. Dean felt rage boil in his stomach, but he had no idea what it was directed to. To Bobby, to Cas, to himself? Damn it _all_.

Dean didn't say a word as he grabbed a handful of tissues and wiped his hand and nose, then grabbed his jacket from the side of his bed and strode quickly across the room towards the front.

"Where the hell are you going Dean?" Bobby shouted after him as Dean wrenched the door open.

"Out!" Dean yelled, and slammed the motel door behind him.

_A/n: Yes, I know. Long chapter of nothing but angsty dialogue. I apologize. I have tried again and again but this chapter just won't obey me, so it will stay sucky for the time being. It needed to be done though. Feedback much obliged._

_I also will not be able to write for a few days, so it might be awhile before I get the next chapter out._


	5. Chapter 5

_Forward: There is a brief heterosexual encounter between Dean and an OC, but considering it **is **Dean, it was nearly inevitable. Nothing too graphic, though, I promise._

_More angst on the way, again I apologize. Some things just write themselves and I admit this chapter got a little bit away from me. I hope it's not too scatter-brained._

_EDIT: Changed the order of events._

_Chapter 5_

Alright. Seriously. It should not be _this-fucking-cold_ this time of year. Dean hated this weather. He hated this town. He hated this _state._

Dean shivered slightly and stuffed his hands deeper into his pockets. The cold had cooled him off a bit, and now he wasn't so angry. Not at Bobby, anyway. His head still felt like it was stuffed with cotton and heat ached behind his eyes, but at least he didn't want to punch the nearest breathing object now. Now he felt numb and his chest was a little too tight.

Dean shook his head and forced himself to walk faster, to where he still didn't know. He wasn't sure how long he'd been walking –he would have preferred driving, but the only car was Bobby's and Dean was angry, not a douche- but he had watched the sun set and _that_ had been a long time ago.

He should have headed back by now, it was late. Dean really didn't want to head back yet. Bobby might be worried. Dean _really_ didn't want to head back yet. The hunter kept walking. Dean hated walking. He really did.

At least when he drove, he had to focus on maintaining the gas, shifting gears, talking to Sam, and blaring his music. Driving kept his mind occupied and comfortably still. But walking? There wasn't much thought behind moving one foot in front of the other. All Dean had to keep him company was silence. Which meant that Dean's traitorous mind decided it should supply him with fodder to drive him to the closest bar. He literally _could not_ let himself think, not about anything. Yet it kept scratching and itching in the back of his head like an irritated wound, even though he knew he _could not scratch_ or it just got worse, but he can't fucking _help_ it.

Yeah, and now he was thinking about it even more. Dean hated his mind sometimes. But it kept nagging him. What had happened several days ago. What had happened two _weeks_ ago. What had happened months ago and he had tried to ignore since then, and what had started over a year ago that Dean didn't know whether to kick himself for ever starting it to begin with or never _finishing_ it. Fuck him, fuck what he did, and fuck him for never having the nerve to end it right. Dean was so close to saying screw all of it and just abandon all the _bullshit_.

He never would, though. He never did, he never _could._ Dean hated that, too.

"Son of a bitch," Dean growled under his breath, raising his open flask to his lips and taking another swig. And then another. The flask sloshed noisily from the sparse amount of liquid left in it as he tipped back a third time, and then continued his walk. The buzz had faded and now pleasant warmth replaced the ache, and his cloudy mind wasn't so ingrained in the past rather than asking for more alcohol to make him feel even warmer.

Dean sat down heavily on a park bench –when he had gotten to a park he didn't know, he didn't really care- and stared blankly out at the field, taking another sip. He wondered what time it was. It was probably late enough to be socially acceptable to get drunk at a bar. Maybe he could find a girl to spend the night with. Dean grinned a little; yeah, a tall busty blonde with pouty lips, perfect for sucking. Or maybe a thin brunette with a perky ass that was a little friskier than she let on. Dean chuckled and closed his eyes, lolling his head back and inhaling deeply. That was sounding more and more like a good plan. Perfect distraction before getting back to business.

Dean rolled his neck and stood up, stretching out his faintly sore leg muscles before turning and walking back to where we figured the main street was.

A breeze picked up and Dean shivered slightly, pulling his jacket closer around him. When this was all said and done, Dean was _never_ coming back to this arctic shit hole.

Another chill went through him and this time Dean went very still. Something itched at the back of his mind, telling him he knew this chill. Ghosts, demons? No, this was…

Faint whirring filled Dean's ears, and quickly increased in volume and intensity until Dean cried out sharply and braced his hands over his ears. He fell to his knees and tried to press his palms harder into his ears in vain attempt to block the shrilling out. Shit, _angels_? What were they doing without meat suits?

It was getting closer and Dean knew he had to get out _now_ and _fast_. But it had come on so quickly and now the force was too much; it literally weighed Dean down so hard he could barely breathe.

What a way to fucking end his night, pass out from being too close to an angel _yakking_. At this rate his ear drums were going to _shatter-_ a thought that was fast becoming less of a bad joke and more of a real terror with each second ticking by. Dean's mouth stretched open in a silent scream and he felt blood slipping through his fingers.

And then there was silence. Deafening, haunting silence and panic flooded Dean's senses.

_OhshitohfuckIthinkI'mdeaffuckshitfuck! _Dean screamed in his head, but the panic, thankfully, was short lived. Just seconds after the screeching stopped Dean heard a low, faint whooshing. Dean let out a breath of relief he didn't realize he had been holding. His head was pounding and it hurt like hell, but at least he could _hear_. At this point all Dean wanted was painkillers and to sleep like the dead.

But now the whooshing was picking up, replacing the volume of the shrill whir until Dean felt like he was in a wind tunnel. _Just one thing after another, isn't it?_

Dean reluctantly stood and turned, seeing bright lights in the distance that seemed to just appear. They were getting closer fast and Dean couldn't help but think he recognized them. Suddenly the entire sky filled with blight light that nearly blinded him and Dean groaned in frustration.

"Oh come on, not _again!_" Dean shouted to the overwhelming whooshing light, and ran. This was just not his night.

No matter how fast he ran the lights stayed right with him, darting through quick turns and alleyways and why the _fuck_ did no one else notice it!

It never lost him, but it never caught up either and if Dean didn't know any better he'd say it was toying with him. Then again…

Dean shook his head and forced his legs to go faster. _Stop thinking. Run._

Dean panicked a little when he heard the whooshing get louder and the lights close in. Fuck _fuck_ this bullshit was going to happen _again._

Dean turned another corner and tripped –_great timing Winchester, really_-, rolling into the alley. He closes his eyes tight and hunkered down, a vain attempt to hide from the overwhelming light. His headache just pounded worse and worse until-

And then it was gone. No lights, no whooshing. Dean cracked open one eye and looked around tentatively, almost expecting the inanimate force to pop out from behind a trashcan. But nothing did. He opened the other eye and slowly stood, lowering his hands. Still wary he walked out of the alley and looked around. No lights and no one seemed fazed, even though Dean _knew_ wind had been whipping his hair and bright lights made it impossible to see. What the hell?

Dean shook his head to clear it. No way had he imagined it, that wasn't possible. Just like he hadn't imagined his ears _bleeding_ from damned angel shrieking.

Aw crap he was walking around with dried blooding coming out of his ears. He must look _nuts._

Dean absently scratched at his neck where he knew the blood was, pulling back his fingers to assess the damage. But his fingers came back clean. He creased his brow in confusion and did it again, and then picked at the other side of his neck. Both came back clean.

The hunter did a quick look around and spotted a bar. He ran to it and pushed passed people, ignoring them all in his haste to find the bathroom.

The moment he looked in the mirror Dean's jaw almost dropped. No blood anywhere. He checked his ears and checked again, but they were clean. No stains on his shirt or jacket, either. He _knew_ he hadn't imagined that. It was too vivid, it hurt too much. He had felt the blood! He head felt like it was going to split in half!

Come to think of it, Dean's headache was gone too, and for a while. Since the lights disappeared, actually. What. The. Hell.

"Yep. You're going insane, dude," Dean said to his reflection, smirking sarcastically and giving himself a nod; only the smirk came out as more of a sour grimace. He looked away. When Dean realized he was half expecting a response he dropped his face in his hands and groaned, "I need a drink."

A strong drink and then sleep sounded perfect, no matter what visited in his dreams. Dean shook all thoughts out of his head and left the bathroom. Immediately his gaze fell to two girls sitting at the bar staring his way and he plastered on his best flirting grin. The taller, dark brunette turned away shyly, but the smaller woman with short auburn hair kept on looking, giving him a once over before shooting him a sly smile and turning back to the bar. Jackpot. Amending his previous thoughts to _strong drink, get laid, then sleep_, Dean sauntered over to the bar.

He grinned when he saw the shorter woman trying to hide a smile and he leaned against the counter.

"Can I get either of you ladies a drink?" He purred.

The taller brunette's face turned red but the shorter met his eyes and said with a soft, silky voice, "I don't know, can you?"

Dean was immediately taken off guard. If the woman wasn't casting him a small smirk with a glint in her eyes Dean would have thought he was being brushed off. The taller woman looked dumbstruck and elbowed the other, obviously not amused by her companion's snarky reply. Damn, that bitch face she was giving her was oddly reminiscent and Dean knew he had to keep up with this one.

His smirk came back and Dean replied, "Well, I'm old enough for the drinks. The question is are _you_?"

Dean made a point to look down at her small stature and this time her eyebrows arched in surprise. The taller snickered this time and now the shorter one did the elbowing.

"Ouch! What?" The brunette muttered and then giggled, "I like him. He bites back."

The shorter rolled her eyes and her cool façade was back as quickly as Dean had wiped it away. She turned fully to face Dean, crossing one leg over the other and showing off a healthy portion of her thigh. This one was a challenge for sure. Normally Dean hated that but something drew him to the mystery brunette and he kept going.

There was a small staring contest between him and Dean stood his ground, knowing that if he lost this he lost a chance with her. Finally that sly smile returned and the woman relaxed.

"You got a name, hot stuff?"

Dean smirked, "I would love the pleasure of yours first."

The woman closed her eyes and chuckled, shaking her head. She lifted her gaze to his and raised her hand, "I'm Janie."

Dean shook it and grinned cockily, "Dean. And your companion?"

Janie cast a glance over her shoulder and shrugged, "Oh. That's my sister, Paula. Don't mind her, she's allergic to hook-ups."

Paula choked on her drink and shot her sister another bitchy glare. Dean suddenly got a feeling of déjà vu but had no idea why. Damn, Dean hadn't had fun like this in a long time.

He flirted with Janie for a long time. She was snarky and sarcastic but Dean managed to keep up, if only just. More than he cared to admit she made him fumble and all he could do was gape at her stupidly. But she would laugh and carry on the conversation. Somewhere in their talking her hand had found itself on his knee, and was slowly travelling up his thigh. Dean's own hand had drifted to her lower back and dipped slightly in her tight jeans. Paula had left a while ago and Dean vaguely registered she was making awkward small talk to the equally awkward bartender.

"Hey hot stuff, why don't we get lost for a bit?" Janie purred, her hand moving boldly up and pressing against the juncture of his hip and thigh. Dean felt heat pool low in his stomach and he grinned at her.

"You read my mind," Dean chuckled, taking her hand and helping her up.

The walk to Janie's room was a blur of lips and heated touches. The moment they got outside Janie pushed him against the wall and kissed him slow and deep, pushing a hand up his shirt and sliding it down toned abdominal muscles. Dean kissed her back readily and just as his hands drifted to her hips Janie was pulling back, tugging teasingly at his lip and smirking at him as she strolled down the street. Dean caught up with her and after another minute tugged her back by her hips and spun her around, kissing her again and sliding his tongue across full, soft lips. She seemed to like that because she sighed and tugged him forward, opening her mouth to his searching tongue. Dean pushed it in deep and grinned when she moaned into his mouth.

"S-sweetheart, I _do_ have a room," Janie said when she pulled away, her voice slightly breathless. Dean was proud of that.

"Then lead the way," Dean purred lowly, and he reveled when she shivered.

Finally they made it back to her room and the moment the door closed Dean pushed her against the wall again. Now inside Janie wasted no time shoving Dean's jacket off and running her hands over strong biceps and broad shoulders. Dean returned the favor by tugging off her blouse and cupping her breasts, swallowing Janie's thick moan with a hard kiss. Fingers dug into his arms and Dean groaned, pulling back to divest himself of his t-shirt and tossing it to the side. His hands returned to her breasts and he kneaded the soft mounds of flesh, drawing sharp gasps and tiny moans from the smaller woman. Dean knew this, Dean was good at this. This didn't require thinking; just feeling good and making the other feel good.

Janie's arms wrapped around Dean's neck and his hands moved from her chest to her thighs, hoisting her up and wrapping her legs around his waist. He pressed bodily against her and rolled his hips up, grinding into her hard. She whined and wrapped her legs tighter around him, rocking back in earnest. God, he missed this. It had been so long, not since-

_Shut the __**fuck**__ up, Winchester_ Dean snapped to himself, forcing himself to get lost in Janie's mouth and body again. Why did his mind hate him? This was perfect; her mouth was full _notright_ and so soft _toosoft_ and dammit he _wanted_ this, he needed this! He was so turned on it almost hurt but he... He wasn't getting hard. He couldn't do it. _Fuck_.

Dean was about to pull back and try to make up a lame excuse when he felt insistent hands on his shoulders pushing him away.

"D-Dean wait, stop," Janie said and Dean obediently pulled back. Janie wouldn't look him in the eye.

Dean was genuinely fucking confused though as he lowered her back to the ground.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing," she mumbled, then shook her head, "Everything. No _fuck_ that's not what I meant."

Janie ground her palms into her temples and groaned exasperatedly.

"You're really fucking hot. Really. I'm so turned on I have no idea _why_ I'm doing this and I'm _so_ gonna regret it later but-…"

"But you just can't," Dean mumbled. Well shit, misery likes to keep company doesn't it?

"Yeah," Janie muttered back, looking up at Dean with slightly pleading eyes.

"It's _so_ not you man, I swear."

Dean couldn't help it. He laughed; it came out as more of a bark than a laugh though, because it was accompanied with a sharp exhale of disbelief. He had never been rejected before and the first time he ever was he was fucking _relieved_. His reality was crashing down around his ears.

Janie looked insulted and Dean forced himself to stop chuckling to say, "Naw, it's-, it's cool." When Janie stared at him incredulously Dean clarified, "Really."

Janie didn't seem convinced. "You sure? I just like, trampled your ego."

Dean shook his head and rubbed at his neck, "No, really. I just, I think I get it. Who's the lucky guy?"

Dean didn't know why he thought it was because of another person, but the look of surprise on Janie's face meant he hit it on the mark. Janie uncharacteristically ducked her head and mumbled so quietly Dean almost missed it.

"It's uh, a she."

Dean stared at her blankly. He could almost hear the gears clanking in his head as he registered that, trying to come up with a valid response, but all he could say was, "Huh."

"Yeah. But she's uh…kinda unavailable. For like forever now."

Oh. Well then. That made it…uncomfortably too familiar to him now.

"Oh uhm. I'm sorry," Dean mumbled, feeling awkward from not being used to sensitivity, but his _was_ a girl and the last thing he wanted was for Janie to slap him. He liked her, after all. When Janie's frown deepened Dean sighed and plowed through.

"Well, I _do_ get it," Dean said softly.

Janie looked surprised again and asked, "What, do you dig a guy?"

"What? No!" Dean exclaimed and shivered, "No. I just meant about the whole unavailable thing."

Dean felt insulted. Why did girls always think he was gay?

Janie looked even less convinced than before, "Uh huh. Okay."

Dean forced himself not to snap at her. Seriously, _why_?

Janie fidgeted a little and rubbed her arms nervously, "So uh, I should…well, _you_ should…"

Janie clamped her mouth shut and stared down at the floor. Dean leaned down to pick up Janie's shirt and handed it over to her. Janie took it without another word and put it back on while Dean picked up his own clothing. They dressed in silence and really, Dean didn't know if this could get more awkward.

Dean hesitated when he opened the door, turning to face Janie. He had an urge to say something, anything, but he didn't know what. He felt like he _knew_ her.

Instead Dean shut his mouth and dumbly said, "Good luck, then."

"You too, sweetheart." Janie stuck her hand out and Dean shook it. Almost as an afterthought Janie stood up on her toes and gave Dean a gentle kiss, then reluctantly closed the door.

Yep. This night could not have been worse.

**_*Elseware*_**

Bobby sighed and rubbed his hands over his face.

"Oh yes Singer, tactful as always, aint'cha?" He grumbled to himself.

Dean had stormed out just a little less than an hour ago, leaving Bobby alone with Sam the sleeping princess. It needed to be said, though, as much as Bobby hated blowing up about it. Sure, Bobby could handle Dean's escalated drinking, and how tired he always looked. He had been like that since he found out Castiel was working with Crowley. But even then, Dean hadn't lost his touch. Dean had been through some of the worst shit Bobby had heard of, yet Dean still _somehow_ managed to pull through in the end –and if it killed him, well, Dean was like a roach. But now? Dean was falling on his ass from a rickety _chair_? No hunter's reflexes were that bad, no matter how shit-faced they got. Something was up with Dean and it was more than Castiel going dark side. Bobby just didn't know what was eating at him.

So yeah, it needed to be said. But did it need to be said _now?_ Probably not. They were nearing the third day mark and they still had only half-assed ideas about how to take down Castiel. And now Dean was MIA.

Bobby sighed again and stood up, stretching his legs and debating on what to get for dinner. He was eating alone tonight, that much he knew.

As Bobby walked to the door he felt a small chill sweep over his right arm. He hesitated a moment before he kept walking. Sometimes it was just a draft.

When Bobby felt another chill run through him and he paused, and then continued on as normal. He felt the reassuring weight of his gun tucked into his waistband and braced himself. Bobby has been hunting long enough to never let a chill go unheeded.

A faint whooshing filled the room and Bobby whipped around, scanning the room quickly and finding nothing. The silence was deathly.

"Alright, you sonova bitch, stop hiding!" Bobby snarled, drawing his gun and scanning the room again. Nothing, but the older hunter could swear he heard _giggling_.

"I ain't a patient man!"

"You're no fun, Robert Singer," a voice said from behind him, and everything went white.

_(A/n: I can't believe I got this chapter written so fast, I was out of state and working for the past three days, where did I find **time? **__Oh yeah. Sleeping. What is that again? _

_But yes, I cranked this out fast and I **really** want to get this chapter up just for you guys. __So I'll notice all my glaring errors later and edit them. If you see anything too awful, just yell at me and I'll fix it. Feedback will **always** be loved and appreciated._

_P.S. I noticed I bashed poor Murray, Utah a lot in this. I have nothing against Murray, I swear, it's just Dean whining. I apologize if anyone lives there and is reading this, I'm sure your arctic hell hole is lovely. I mean...)_


	6. Chapter 6

_Foreword: First thing I want to say I am **so sorry** it took so long to get this out. I had severe writer's block for this section, I literally had this play out five different ways before I settled on this one. And I will never be able to express how much that this is probably the worst chapter I've written for anything ever. That's saying something. Also, since I'm apparently internet-inept, it took me two weeks to figure out where to find the alert and favorites thing is, so HOLY CRAP thank you guys so much for the alerts and favorites! I can't express how much that means to me, thank you!  
><em>

_Chapter 6_

_Pain blood so much __**blood**__ guilt scream your fault __**your fault**__ useless fuck give up! Endless stop __**stop it**__ not them, not him, please don't!_

_Endless blue, always searching, always; what, what do you-_

_You were family._

"_I have no family." _

_Pushed against the wall; he swallowed hard and watch the other's pleading eyes. His heart was pounding, he couldn't look away. He wanted, he needed-_

"_You're a good man Dean, why-"_

_No._

"_I can show you."_

_I'm not, I never was._

"_Please."_

_I can't._

"_Wait!"_

_Intense blue eyes bore into him, no long reassuring but accusing and cold._

_**It's a wonder Dean, how this is the memory you choose to dream about. Does it give you comfort?**_

_Warm heat want __**fuck**__ wrong no, why need you come back!_

"_Dean-"_

"_Get away from me!"_

_**You never did care what I had to think did you? Now you will.**_

_Wait, I never meant-_

_**Excuses Dean, they're unbecoming of you. It's far too late.**_

_**You never did understand why I did it all for you.**_

_Ungrateful, selfish, ignorant! Mortal, human, lesser._

"_All I ever wanted-!"_

_**Hate you.**_

Dean awoke with such a start he almost fell out of the narrow bed. His heart was pounding so hard he could feel it in his throat and he had to take a few deep breaths to remember how to breathe normally again. When his senses matched up with reality once more Dean swallowed hard and closed his eyes; not _again_. Would it kill him to have one night of decent sleep?

Dean groaned when he realized the sun was streaming in unforgivingly through the slanted blinds and his head nearly split in two. He buried his head in the old pillow to drown out the awful creation that was light. Hangover. _Fun. _He reached blindly for the flask he knew was on the bed side table, braving the sun to swallow down the welcome, comforting burn.

He strung together what he could from last night, not surprised by how little that was. Coherency had dissipated with each drink that passed his lips, and it was slow coming back. He did recall his apparent lapse of sanity and reluctantly remembered Janie and that disaster. Coming home was blurry though, but he assumed that was because he was nearly sleep-walking by the time he hit the bed. Dean realized apathetically that he was still in his clothes from last night, not even bothering removing his shoes before he was out like a light. Eh, not the first time it happened.

He had to get up now though, they needed to…well, do something. They had two days left. _Shit_.

Dean pushed everything to the back of his mind and made himself stand, checking on Sam before doing anything else. No change in his brother, and it least he could be vaguely thankful Sam was still okay. After brushing Sam's hair back -and Dean would kill anyone who caught him doing that or even suggested he did it- he went into the bathroom to take a quick shower.

He dressed relatively quickly and picked up his phone to call Bobby, hesitating at the last minute. He stared at the screen for a long time, recalling everything they said to each other last night, and finally got the balls to call the man. They had bigger things on their plate than an argument. He was surprised went it went to voicemail. Dean almost shut the phone, but forced himself to stay on and speak when the automated voice signaled him.

"Hey uh Bobby, it's me," Dean said, and sighed, "Look, we'll have time later to dissect this personal shit, but you and I both know we got no time right now. You were… well, you were right, but I swear I'm in this. We're gonna get this done. Call me."

Dean shut the phone and sighed again, then checked the time. It was almost noon. Damn, he slept late. Bobby probably decided not to wait up for him and was out. Dean debated whether he should wait for Bobby to get back, or to say screw it and go out on his own. Dean's empty stomach decided for him. After last night Dean could go for a burger. He gave a quick glance at Sam, and frowned; as much as he hated leaving him, he doubted something was going to happen in the hour he was out. Grabbing his jacket Dean exited the motel, never noticing the faint stream of light entering the room above his head when he opened the door.

The motel was more or less within walking distance of everything major in the town, including an apparently popular diner. Dean took a seat at a barstool and scanned the room. Despite being there a few days Dean had mostly stayed inside. He hadn't gotten a chance to see the townspeople yet, so this was his first opportunity see what they daylight people were like.

It was typically small town; many knew each other by first name and carried on small conversations, and nothing was out of the ordinary that he could tell. It looked like whatever planted them here had picked a rather sleepy town.

When the waitress approached him Dean gave her a bright, flirty smile and said his order, making a show to admire her assets. She had frizzy red hair, but thick and fell in nice waves over her small shoulders. He grinned when she flushed almost as bright as her hair and she bit her lip on a smile before she scurried away. Dean felt proud; even if he couldn't get it up he still got it.

Dean's momentary victory faded when he heard the hushed voices. From some reason, Dean's ears never picked up on loud conversations; while most people would zero in on the loudest voice, Dean immediately latched on to the quietest. He blamed it on hunter instincts. He couldn't even help it anymore, and in seconds Dean was suddenly listening in on a private conversation between three women.

"Poor Karen, she's still choking up!"

"What, do you mean…?"

"No, no nothing like that. But, you know…still gone."

"He was such a good kid."

"But you heard about the Greenfield girl, right?"

"Oh yeah, I can't believe it!"

"No, what happened?"

"Just vanished!"

Dean's brow creased and he inclined his head slightly to listen better, fiddling with his soda distractedly. Well it looked like Dean's weird magnet was working again. Dean more or less beat down what his first instinctive thought was and made himself muse _that's too bad, those kids going missing. I hope they turn up alright_.

Sometimes it was just creepy assholes taking kids. Sometimes it wasn't some monster.

Aw, screw it, now he was curious.

When the waitress came back with his food Dean flashed another winning smile and asked her for a copy of the newspaper. He paid for it and didn't have to go far. On the side of the front page was an article stating "Local Girl Still Missing! Amber's Parents Devastated"

According to the article, seventeen-year-old Amber Greenfield was the third to go missing in the past six weeks. Three weeks ago a boy named Jacob Fligel, nineteen, was taken and there was no sign of him since. However, 21 year old Janette went missing six weeks ago but was found two weeks later, with no memory of what had occurred. Claimed to have had an "out-of-this-world" experience.

Dean stared at the newspaper with as much detachment as he could. Yep, too bad. He hoped the police could find those kids. Dean's hands tightened on the newspaper and he set his jaw. This wasn't some supernatural bullshit. These kids were going missing and the Janette girl was probably shaken up. It. Was. Nothing.

_Son of a bitch, _Dean thought dryly, closing his eyes and holding back a groan of annoyance. He didn't have _time._ His instincts, however, were not getting the memo and were telling him something else, that this was important.

Dean looked back down at the newspaper, then pointedly got up and threw it away. For the first time in his life, Dean was going to ignore a case.

Dean pulled out his wallet to pay his bill when he heard hushed voices again.

"Hey guys, something's up on the news!"

Someone from the other side of the room then called, "Hey Mill, turn up the tube would ya?"

A waitress reached up and turned up the volume, and the diner fell silent as the impromptu news story played.

"Here in Murray, Utah, a strange accident has decimated the local park. A large crater now sits where a green park used to be. Authorities are calling it a minor gas explosion, but locals are not so sure," a reporter stated on the television.

Dean's gaze was intent on the screen just as the locals, but awhile they looked enraptured Dean's eyes had widened in shock. He recognized the place the camera was filming. He recognized the trees, and the swing-set and sandbox in the distance. And Dean would have seen the park bench he had sat on just last night, if it wasn't for the giant hole carved deep into the ground where it once stood.

"The police are stating that the incident had to have occurred just after sunset, but no later than ten o'clock last night. And now the public is asking: Was it a meteor crash? A terroristic attack? More on this story, later."

Dean gaped numbly at the screen. As the news story faded out the murmur of the diner grew, more and more talking about just what that crash could have been.

"-Ain't no gas break."

"Thank god no one was hurt!"

"You think it was really- -meteor?"

"They say how big it was?"

"Shit, I heard about places where this happened…"

"The size of a car! No, a house!"

"-The _other_ people, ya know?"

"Dude, you're nuts!"

"No witnesses?"

"-Shut the whole block down."

"I'm just sayin' better to be paranoid-...your brains scrambled."

"Police ain't letting anyone in or out."

"Those damn…thinking they can step on_ our_ land again!"

"Isn't that a _little_ suspicious?"

Dean's headache was coming back. His heart was pounding like a skittish colt while he tried to block out the overwhelming flow of conversations. He threw down a few bills and left as quickly as he could. He needed to talk to Bobby, _now_. This was way too much at once, he needed a calmer head. He tried dialing him again, and _again_, but still no answer. That…did not bode well for him. Bobby never went this long without answering his phone, regardless of situation. Dean's gut was telling him something awful that he _really_ didn't want to believe.

"Pick up your damn phone, Bobby!" Dean snapped to himself before darting back to the motel room.

He pounded on the older hunter's door the moment he reached the motel, shouting his name. Seriously, Bobby should be back by now, his car was here so if he had walked anywhere he wouldn't have gone far without a message or _leave his damn phone on_.

Dean forced himself to remain calm but panic was creeping its way up his spine now. He pulled out his copy of Bobby's key and entered the room, hoping to find the old hunter asleep on the bed or some sign he was just out.

The room looked pristine. The books were stacked orderly and the bed was made. Nothing was out of place. Bobby was nowhere.

With a mantra of _shitshitshitshit_**_shit _**playing through Dean's head he searched the room top to bottom for where Bobby might have gone. Because Bobby was still here, he was just out he wasn't gone _he couldn't be gone not now._

Dean found a few of his knives missing as well as his guns, but only the weapons made of silver. He found nothing else out of place, nothing to signal where Bobby might have gone. If it wasn't for the duffel bag -unopened and untouched- and the books it wouldn't even look like Bobby had ever been _in_ here.

Dean kept looking for signs, but what he did find made dread settle sickly in his stomach. The salt lines were destroyed. Well, not destroyed, but Dean could not figure out why there two neat salt piles on the windowsill and two pillars next to the door, when most creatures would kick it away. Was this thing mocking them? Whatever the hell this thing was he didn't know, because they hadn't taken the time to research the damn town before deciding to set up base here.

Dean couldn't think enough to care, because _Bobby was gone_. Bobby was missing, probably like those kids and _fuck fuck _**_fuck_**_ why hadn't they looked into the town first? If he had paid attention he could have helped he could have stopped this, if they had read up on the town they _**_never_**_ go anywhere without taking precautions why wouldn't they do this now _**_fuck _**_now Bobby was gone and it's _**_his fault_**_ it's always his damn fault-_

"Son of a bitch!" Dean shouted, to who or what he didn't know, he didn't care. Dean resisted the urge to scream and didn't realize he had lashed out until he heard the crash of the lamp shattering on the worn carpet floor. He fumed at the broken fixture and didn't even fucking care about the broken glass and kicked the nightstand over, watching several books and a knife go flying.

Dean gritted his teeth and clenched his fists, barely resisting the urge to release his anger in the form of punching the wall until he couldn't feel his knuckles anymore. He forced himself to breathe; this wasn't helping, he needed to calm down, he needed to- _do what, you useless piece of shit, your brother is gone, Bobby is gone, Cas is out for your blood, what can you _**_possibly _**_do now? This couldn't get worse but somehow, _**_you_**_ could probably figure it out!_ _You're alone, asshole, you'll always end up alone this is what you fucking _**_deserve_**_._

And just like that Dean felt the tooth-pick foundation he had built up when Sam came back from hell, fall out from under him like quicksand.

Dean slumped to the floor, breathing hard and just…staring. So much was whirling through his head he wasn't sure which thought to focus on._ Bobby-gone-Cas-darkside-Sammy-gone-find-Bobby-help-Cas-help_**_-Cas-help-Sammy-SAMMY_**. And there it was. _Don't leave Sammy alone_. That was the only thought that mattered.

Dean walked hollowly back to their room sat down heavily on the bed, watching over Sam in his peaceful sleep. A forced, fake peace. Dean smirked bitterly and shut his eyes, shaking his head. All he could do now was watch over Sam, and even then he knew it was nothing. He couldn't go into Sam's head and take away those memories. He couldn't wake Sam up, and he couldn't ask for Cas to help him anymore. He couldn't even keep his brother in fake bliss, because in less than two days Cas was bringing the walls down unless they gave in. He couldn't save Sam, he could _never_ save Sam. And there was still so much more he needed to do.

"What am I supposed to do?" Dean said weakly, the already bitter smile fading from his lips. He needed to find Bobby, he couldn't do this alone. He couldn't stop Cas by himself. Dean scoffed and swallowed past the sudden tightness in his throat. Stopping Cas, like he was just another damn monster; it tasted strange in Dean's mouth when he had to say it. He knew there was no other option though. But as many times as he'd yelled at himself over it, that Cas wasn't _Cas_ anymore and that Dean had to stop him, he just.. .

"I can't do it, Sammy," Dean said thickly, the realization heavy and sounding foreign to his ears.

The only thing keeping him going was Sam and Bobby, and _him_. He thought it was enough for a while, that maybe he could handle living with that. He thought he had endured worse. But in a span of less than a week it was ripped out from under him and Dean knew there was nothing more to fall back on, and he wasn't getting help with this. He couldn't get help with this, it was too much. It was finally too much.

"I can't do it."

_A/n: Everything has to get worse before it gets better, right? Feedback would be much appreciated, especially since I churned this out while half asleep and exhausted from work. Please yell at me if you see errors or discrepancies._


End file.
